#RainbowSnippets: Wind Me Up, One More Time

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+.

To read a wide variety of samples from LGBTQIA+ stories, go to…


Time to finally start sharing snippets from my upcoming holiday release; Wind Me Up, One More Time!

(This is a little longer than six sentences and this part is from the story within the story…)

From Grace and Theodora: Magic and Mishaps

Theodora Bear could sense the little princess, her Nathalie, her child was in peril. Growing up and away was natural for children, but what was happening to Nathalie was not. She no longer remembered Theodora, her home, her kingdom, or her sister.

*Grace.* She called upon the princess’s younger sister, using the not-voice stuffed animals could use in extreme danger. *We need to find Nathalie. We need to save her before it’s too late.*

Intrigued by what you’ve read? Want to read some more? Here are buy links…

Mischief Corner Books/Shenanigans Press: https://www.mischiefcornerbooks.com/wind-me-up-one-more-time.html#/


Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wind-me-up-one-more-time

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wind-me-up-one-more-time-ks-trenten/1134959345

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1488235515?fbclid=IwAR1_ox2T5jIHibPFBHUqTck0SNaP3pcZIgNM4DS3VAjU47mn3o5iu260bMA


Conversations with Christopher: Dyvian

Once more Christopher and Dyvian sit, facing each other, gazing at each other, reflected colours swirling and gleaming in their eyes.
Christopher: NaNoWriMo is almost over.

Dyvian: So little accomplished on the part of our scribbler. She was far too preoccupied with reacquainting herself with our story.

Christopher: So much was happening in other stories, she had to remind herself of the events in My Tool, My Treasure. Such as how much…inspiration…you drew from Danyel and Tayel in concocting your schemes.

Dyvian: Just as you drew inspiration from me. Our scribbler never reached your happy conclusion to your own plots. They still bubble in her imagination.

Christopher: She had too much to do this month. Edits and a new release aside, there were all those notebooks filled with things she had to transcribe, crowding her shelves, leaving no physical space. We’re lucky she spent any time with us at all.

Dyvian: Now she’s three quarters of the way through another notebook. A life of notes, quotes, blogs, book reviews, and random spurts of writing don’t leave her enough time to carry out her own plans. Or ours.

Christopher: Planning her time effectively is one of the regular challenges she faces.

Dyvian: Oh, she’ll find time for us. (He smiles, the cold glint in his eyes brightening as he does.) Quartz isn’t the only one who can be…persuasive.

Christopher: No, he isn’t. (He shakes his head, trying to keep it from turning into a shudder.) Do you really think you can win?

Dyvian: I have as good a chance of victory as Duessa Ashelocke has.

Christopher: I doubt Duessa will win in the end.

Dyvian: No, but she may savour the exquisite satisfaction of a satisfactory defeat. Just as you may suffer the pangs of an unsatisfactory victory.

Christopher: Just what are you implying?

Dyvian: Duessa and I may be villains, but our scribbler gets bored with basic villaims. We must have layers, signs of humanity, and even virtues to keep us interesting.

Christopher: You and Duessa both had good intentions at the bottom of your schemes, for all your sinister appetites. You’re sign posts for people with good intentions, warning them where they can go wrong. You may have have wrong, but you still show compassion even as you manipulate and sacrifice people for your own ends.

Dyvian: Ah, but your appetites are no less sinister than ours, my dear. You give into them, endangering the very people you want to help and protect.

Christopher: You mean the twins.

Dyvian: I do mean the twins, but this could also apply to Damian. Your little scheme may well be going against his wishes. I wonder if you understand this?

Christopher: He offered me my life in the Navel in exchange for the Shadow Forest. Yes, I understand.

Dyvian: And now you’re destroying your life and taking the Shadow Forest from him.

Christopher: Am I? He’d had the Shadow Forest and it’s had him. You saw to that.

Dyvian: Ah, so I’ve made your little pact null and void, have I?

Christopher: I never agreed to Damian’s exchange, not really. He expected too much of me.

Dyvian: Perhaps he did.

Christopher: And you? Do the Followers of Seraphix, the little cult you’ve formed expect too much of you? Does Seraphix?

Dyvian: Perhaps. I’ll leave you to wonder about that while you entertain Grace and Theodora next week.

Christopher: It will be a relief to see them again after your games.

Dyvian: Ah, but will you be seeing them again? There’s more than one Grace and Theodora in Wind Me Up, One More Time.

Christopher: What do you mean?

Dyvian: I’ll leave you to wonder about that as well…

#RainbowSnippets: My Tool, My Treasure

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+.

To read a wide variety of samples from LGBTQIA+ stories, go to…


I’m going to do one more snippet from my NaNoWriMo project before I switch to my upcoming holiday release; Wind Me Up, One More Time. This is a larger than six sentence sample from My Tool, My Treasure, but they’re short sentences…


He allowed Dyvian’s voice to caress his ears. It was powerful. Commanding. Ready to catch him if he falted.

No. Dyvian was now the Voice of Seraphix. He spoke for everyone here. He was ready to catch everyone if they fell.

*Such a burden. To catch everyone.*

The annoying inner voice with its sly, sensual drawl was getting louder, loud enough to disturb the rhythm of Dyvian’s prayer. It had been with Leiwell as long as he’d existed. Only it was getting stronger, harder to ignore.

Leiwell concentrated on Dyvian. He peeked under his eyelashes at his master, allowing the man’s beauty to distract him.

Conversations with Christopher: Dyvian

Once more, the boy and the man sit facing each other with their reflective, multicolored eyes, gazing at each other, capturing images of each other in swimming hues or prismatic stillness.

Christopher: Sometimes I feel like I’m floating, disconnected.

Dyvian: This is because we are connected to so many people and their stories. As Once Upon a Time. As Happily Ever After. It disconnects us from ourselves.

Christopher: I wonder. Those whose stories we connect with mirror our own, if they aren’t already linked to us.

Dyvian: You mean Danyel and Tayel.

Christopher: They are connected to me just as Leiwell is connected to Damian. No matter how much we might struggle against our bond, we need it.

Dyvian: While I am connected to you and Damian. No matter how much the two of you bewitch and oppose me, I need you. You are, after all, my path to Leiwell and the twins.

Christopher: Just how are we your path? How do you mean to reach Leiwell and the twins using us?

Dyvian: Now that truly would be giving the plot away.

Christopher: What do you want, Dyvian, truly? From all of us?

Dyvian: Connection. Relevance. A reality and reason for existence which I myself choose.

Christopher: Strange. I want those things myself.
Dyvian: Yet you find this strange because you are at odds with me, Christopher. You see me as an enemy.

Christopher: Do I?

Dyvian: Danyel and Tayel do. They’re influencing your vision of me just as they influence Leiwell’s.

Christopher: The twins think you’re a threat to their brother, which you are.

Dyvian: I only want what’s best for Leiwell.

Christopher: The best being you?

Dyvian: Love for Leiwell inspires me to be the best I can be at everything, even if that also means I must be the worst.

Christopher: You admit that it’s necessary to be the worst for his sake.

Dyvian: Sometimes the best mentor is a devil, offering a contrast to the words and decrees of a god.

Christopher: You serve a god or a godling. You are the Voice of Seraphix. You’re doing all you can to make your particular incarnation of the God of Balance powerful.

Dyvian: Nothing strengthens us the way adversity does.

Christopher: Who is Seraphix’s adversary? Danyel? Tayel? Yourself?

Dyvian: Danyel certainly sees me, the Voice of Seraphix as a devil, come to tempt his beloved brother away. Tayel sees more clearly, which makes him all the more frightening and frightened. The twins and I are at odds, yet we all serve Seraphix in our diverse ways; the Hand, the Eye, and the Voice.

Christopher: Meaning none of you are the devil, this adversary you spoke of.

Dyvian: Adversity requires a contrary position and perspective. The twins may struggle against Seraphix’s design, but they’re part of it.

Christopher: You can be a devil, an adversary, and still be part of your god’s design. As a devil, you might even be crucial to it.

Dyvian: (Sorrow appears in lines and shadows under his eyes, marking his face.) You may be right.

Christopher: I can see you’ve already considered whom this devil might be, if he’s part of Seraphix’s design.

Dyvian: (He looks up, a savage twist to his lips.) Oh, I know whom he is. It’s Damian. It’s always been Damian. He’s part of our plan, yet he constantly tries to sabotage it.

Christopher: (He allows his own lips to twist into the mockery of smile.) You made Damian part of the plan. You made him part of Leiwell. If he’s now a devil, it’s part of your design.

Dyvian is silent at this. He looks down at his hands.

Christopher: You’ve made Leiwell Seraphix’s adversary as much as Damian.

Dyvian: And what of you, Christopher? (He looks up, eyes filled with harsh, glaring light, a cold mirror of Christopher’s swirling gaze.) Whose side are you on? Damian’s? Or the twins’?

Christopher: (He allows his smile to soften into something almost sweet.) Now that would be spoiling our story, wouldn’t it?

Dyvian doesn’t answer. He simply bows his head in acknowledgment, although the glint in his eyes intensify.

Christopher continues to smile, unfazed by this.

#RainbowSnippets: My Tool, My Treasure

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to LGBTQIA+.

To read a wide variety of samples from LGBTQIA+ stories, go to…


I’m still waiting for the OK to start sharing snippets from my upcoming f/f/ Young Adult/children’s holiday tale, Wind Me Up, One More Time from Mischief Corner Books/Shenanigans Press. While I’m waiting, I figured I’d share a little from the beginning of my NaNoWriMo project; My Tool, My Treasure. This is part of my Tales of the Navel: The Shadow Forest series of which Waiting for Rebirth, Unwilling to Be Yours, and Be My Valentine…Snack are all a part of. This snippet is a couple sentences longer than six, just to end on the right note…


“We’ve gathered together to offer ourselves to Seraphix. Our wishes for Their Power. Our hearts for Their Glory.”

Light slipped in beams of the temple, stray clumps of moss coyly averting the eyes of the villagers from the might of the sun. Yellow and white circles picked out the various faces of the residents of Omphalos, who’d chosen to become Followers of Seraphix. Those circles kissed their upturned faces…or slapped them.

Don’t think like that. Leiwell whispered the words to himself like a prayer, even as he shut his eyes.



Conversations with Christopher: Dyvian

Christopher, a slight youth with short, dusky bronze hair, curling around his ears, falling forward over his forhead in coppery golden bangs sits in his chair, looking like the sunlight is trapped in his head. The halo of brightness contrast to the black vest and trousers he wears. His attire is the same as the man sitting opposite him. Everything else about this man is in direct contrast to Christopher. The man has long, strands pale hair falling over his black vest, he keeps his slender hands folded in his lap, while Christopher taps with a finger on the arm of his chair. Boy and man both have eyes filled with colour, but markedly different. Christopher’s irises swim with vibrant blues, purples, greens, rose, shards of silver and gold, giving the impression of light reflected off water, shifting and moving. The man’s hues are frozen with a glacier iciness; blues, grays, lavender, and pink leached of their vitality, yet still and eternal.

Christopher: It’s you.

Dyvian: (smiling) You almost seem relieved to see me.

Christopher: For the last few weeks, I’ve been interrogated by a jealous kobold.

Dyvian: I can be jealous, too.

Christopher: Your jealousy isn’t usually directed at me.

Dyvian: Does that frighten you less?

Christopher: (pauses for a moment) No.

Dyvian: No, it really shouldn’t, considering whom my envy is attracted to.

Christopher: Why? (He raised his hands, spreading them in a helpless, almost pleading gesture.) Why are you jealous of Damian?

Dyvian: He did things in the Garden of Arachne I only dreamed of doing. I admired him as much as I envied him.

Christopher: That’s not why you’re jealous. Not really.
Dyvian: No. (He examines his slim fingers.) I envy the part he played in creating Leiwell, in giving Leiwell life and form.

Christopher: That gift may have cost Damian his own.

Dyvian: If anyone can survive it, it’s Damian. (giving Christopher a sly glance) Especially since Happily Ever After is so determined to bring him back.

Christopher: If you’re asking me to reveal my plans, I won’t.

Dyvian: I’d expect nothing less of you.

Christopher: You truly see Leiwell as exclusively yours. That’s wishful thinking.

Dyvian: True. I may never get my wish.

Christopher: Is this wish the one which binds you to Seraphix? Making Seraphix more powerful, transforming Them into a god?

Dyvian: I can’t reveal too much about that without spoiling the plot.

Christopher: Haven’t we already spoiled things with too many hints?

Dyvian: We’ve revealed nothing that hasn’t been revealed at the Cauldron or inspirationcauldron.blogspot.com.

Christopher: (looking away) Perhaps not.

Dyvian: Much is coming into focus, developing as we continue with our scribbler into NaNoWriMo. I’ve learned many things about myself in My Tool, My Treasure.

Christopher: Perhaps we should explain a little to the readers. (glances over at you) My Tool, My Treasure is the fourth novel in Tales of the Navel: The Shadow Forest.

Dyvian: Perhaps we should explain a little more about the first three books? After all, our scribbler is still revising them and hasn’t released any.

Christopher: I almost feel a little Quartz-like grumble at that, considering how fast other authors finish their stories, but I know she’s trying to do her best by us. (sighs) All right, the first book is Stealing Myself From Shadows. It’s my story, of how I open a Door to the Shadow Forest, trying to find Damian Ashelocke.

Dyvian: Only to bring Danyel and Tayel into existence, who tell their own story on both sides of the Door in The Hand and the Eye of the Tower, the second book.

Christopher: Leiwell adds his voice to Danyel and Tayel’s in the third book, A Godling for Your Thoughts?

Dyvian: Not that my Leiwell will be unfamilar to readers. They’ll have met him in the first two books, which share events from different perspectives.

Christopher: You, however, step out of the shadows and play a major part in A Godling for Your Thoughts? Resurrecting Omphalos. Gathering the Followers of Seraphix. Creating a god.

Dyvian: I did pay a major part in the shadows as Once Upon a Time in The Hand and the Eye of the Tower. It’s your story I’m less than prominent within.

Christopher: You sound disappointed at that.

Dyvian: It’s something I wish to see our scribbler correct in all this revising.

Christopher: On that note, I think we’ll stop for this week.

Dyvian: Although we will continue next. (He gazes at Christopher.) It has been entirely too long since we’ve talked, my dear.

Christopher: (doesn’t smile back) We talk plenty in the manuscript being worked on.

Dyvian: Ah, but do we really?

Christopher: (allowing a smile to touch the corner of his mouth) Is anything we do real?

Dyvian: As real as we wish it to be. We create our own reality.

Christopher: We also destroy it.

Dyvian says nothing in response, only smiles.

#RainbowSnippets: Of Cuckoo Clocks and Crystal Coffins

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+.

To read a wide variety of samples from LGBTQIA+ stories, go to…


All right, I promised Quartz I’d give him an extra long snippet this Saturday in return for short-changing him last Saturday, especially since I may be switching to my NaNoWriMo project, My Tool, My Treasure the Saturday after this one. In the meantime, here’s a generous taste of Quartz’s Work in Progress, Of Cuckoo Clocks and Crystal Coffins…


Stealing a moment to “commune with the crystals” as Opal would have called it, I laid down my axe just for a moment.

Most of my brothers were busy in various parts of mine, digging out, sorting, and polishing the sort of stones a lot of human were too fool to recognize the value of.

Those who weren’t would pay handsomely for what we had to offer.

I pressed my face against the stone, palms against its cool roughness. Aye, it was a beauty, this many-faced quartz. Would have sliced my hands if I’d been human. Dwarves are made of sturdier stuff. Legends says we were once part of rock and stone. We could endure their touch like few other living beings.

This particular namestone of mine had several faces which were clear and bright. Others offered glimpses of murky, inner landscapes.

Now mind you, I don’t mind murk. Often it’s a unique quality within a quartz, part of its character. This one had a cut, slashing with deliberate malice through its inner structure, interrupting the natural energy flow. Its rhythm moved at a sluggish pace, skipping here and there, due to the flaw.

Had someone done this on purpose? Who would do such a thing?

“Communing with the earth’s bones?” Opal’s voice drew me out of the quartz.

“I told you not to do that.” I glared at the brother who was the eldest of my six siblings after myself, turning the ire of my bristing brows upon him.

“Right. Because meditating in the mines makes so much more sense than working.” Opal smoothed his whiskers, nose wrinkling in an utter lack of appreciation.


Conversations with Christopher: Nimmie Not Strikes Again

Christopher appears in his chair, only to find Nimmie Not already present in the misty, changing ambience of the Cauldron, seated in a stone throne carved with bones and roses.

Christopher: That seat is from the tower’s reflection on the other side of the Door in The Hand and the Eye of the Tower.

Nimmie Not: (wagging a finger at Christopher) Now, now, are you spoilering potential readers again?

Christopher: Not really.

Nimmie Not: No, not really, but it is a fine chair, a chair indeed. I wonder if Quartz would like it?

Christopher: Bone and rose patterns are more to Oriana’s taste than Quartz’s.

Nimmie Not: Ah, well, that in itself would make this seat distasteful! (He claps his hands together.) Still it is a distinctive seat, yes, indeed. I can see why little Danyel would think his beloved Tayel would like it.

Christopher: There’s a lot about the twins I find mysterious, yet hauntingly familar.

Nimmie Not: Another pretty, contractictory statement I’ve come to expect from you. (He runs his bony hands over the arms of the seat, which are shaped like twisting vines.) Didn’t you help poor little Danyel into this chair after stealing some of his warmth while you carried him through the Door?

Christopher: Now that is a spoiler, although it’s not exactly true.

Nimmie Not: (he chuckles and claps) No, you weren’t altogether yourself at the time, yet when are you ever? Besides give a little, get a little. You created Danyel, didn’t you, at least in part? Both him and Tayel?

Christopher: You’re dropping spoilers right and left. That’s just petty, Nimmie Not.

Nimmie Not: Hah! Well, I’ll leave off those finished, yet unpolished novels our scribbler sits upon like an awkward hen and return to the top of last week. (He leans forward.) You said your Happily Ever After was Damian and the twins. How so?

Christopher: I begin and end with Damian. I cannot imagine an existence without him, although I tried to live one out for his sake.

Nimmie Not: You mean becoming Gabrielle’s son, helping her out at the Navel, living Damian’s life in Omphalos, while Damian himself takes a little jaunt through the Shadow Forest?

Christopher: (looking away) Yes.

Nimmie Not: (tapping with spindly fingers on the stone beneath them) You liked your life. You didn’t want to return to the Shadow Forest, yet you couldn’t leave Damian there, even if he wished to be left. (He raises his legs, kicking out his heels while sitting.) Oh, the wicked disregard we show for those we love, out of the very love we bear them!

Christopher: Aren’t you doing the same thing to Quartz?

Nimmie Not: Of course! (He leaps in his feet, swings a leg in the air, and begins to dance a slow jig around Christopher.) Poor, dopey dwarf with nothing but rocks for company, until I force my company upon him. Company and a cuckoo clock! I give him a new home, a snug little burrow in an enchanted forest, somewhere away from all the rocks, and what does he do? Takes in a human stray and whacks himself over the head with her problems!

Christopher: Wasn’t that a spoiler?

Nimmie Not: Yes and no. If people have read Fairest, they’ll have noticed some of that. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. (He stops dancing.) You’re doing it again, you devious little shadow.

Christopher: Doing what?

Nimmie Not: Distracting me. Getting me talk about Quartz and myself instead of you. (He puts his hands on his hips.) Let’s return to the subject at hand, shall we? That subject being your Happily Ever After.
Christopher: (leaning back in his seat) What part do you wish to return to?

Nimmie Not: The twins. How are they your Happily Ever After?

Christopher: I helped create them from my own essence. Danyel and Tayel are part of me, yet they’re shaping their own existence, their own unique individuality. From that individuality, a future is forming, a potentially brighter one than any I’ve been able to create.

Nimmie Not: Oh, that’s all very pretty, little shadow. It’s sweet, how noble your intentions are towards the twins, yet you feel an arachnocrat’s hunger for them, do you not?

Christopher: (He doesn’t answer. He looks down at his own folded hands in his lap.)

Nimmie Not: Hah! I thought so! (In an abrupt motion, he sits down again.) You yearn to drain that essence which was once yours, delicately flavoured with the twins’ fragile individuality. Don’t deny that you do.

Christopher: (lowering his head) I suppose I’m still a shadow, no matter what else I try to be.

Nimmie Not: Yes, you are. (He stabs a finger at Christopher.) I wonder if you didn’t create those sweet little darlings as a way of taking revenge upon Leiwell.

Christopher: (looking up slowly) Revenge?

Nimmie Not: Leiwell consumed your precious Damian Ashelocke when he came into existence, swallowing his essence. How exquisitely malicious it would be to give that hungry young shadow someone precious to him, only to take those precious creatures away. To drain every drop of them, or perhaps to trick Leiwell into draining them himself?

Christopher: Is that what you think I’m doing? Mirroring the void in Leiwell which exists within myself?

Nimmie Not: Hah! Is there any need to?

Christopher: No, there isn’t. I have a plan to get Damian back from Leiwell and yes, it does involve the twins. I shouldn’t have to devour them in order to carry it out.

Nimmie Not: Ah, but you long to. You long to consume your Happily Ever After, make it a part of yourself again. Perhaps you would finally be free if you did.

Christopher: What makes you think I want to be free?

Nimmie Not: Eh?

Christopher: You were free. You went where you wished, did what you wished, enchanted whomever you wished, only to allow your fate, your very self to be bound to Quartz’s.

Nimmie Not: I’ve always been bound to Quartz, even while I bounded around without a care in the world. (He fidgets.) I’m not sure if I’ve ever been free in the manner you describe.

Christopher: Neither have I. If I were to be free, I’d imagine being quite lonely.

Nimmie Not: Maybe. (He fidgets again.)

Christopher: Think of it, having no ties to anyone. Adrift. Apart. Floating through existence without anyone.

Nimmie Not: Fine, you win! (He leaps out of his seat.) I don’t want to be free, nor do I want to float! (He starts to spin around and stamp.) Why do either if I can dance? (He disappears.)

Christopher: You know what I mean. (He gazes at the empty space.) Quartz, I wonder how you’re going to keep up with that one. (He smiles a little.) You’re going to have to learn to dance, if nothing else.

(There’s a “Hmmph!” which carries through the air in response to this.)

#RainbowSnippets: Of Cuckoo Clocks and Crystal Coffins

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating post and share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+.

To read a wide variety of samples from different LGBTQIA+ stories, go to…


Eventually, I’m going to switch to my NaNoWriMo project; My Tool, My Treasure. I’m going to let Quartz go on a little longer with Of Cuckoo Clocks and Crystal Coffins first…

Quartz: Oh, aren’t you gracious, scribbler. Many thanks!

Me: Don’t mention it.

Quartz: (grumbles under his breath)


Every dwarf has a namestone, at least every dwarf in my family. I took great pride in mine, the way its facets gleamed, how it grew with jagged elegance from the ground, singing in a silent voice I alone could hear.

At least I thought I was alone in this.

Someone is always listening, even if you don’t hear or notice them.

I learned that the hard way.


Quartz: What?! That’s only five sentences!

Me: It’s the end of the introduction. The chapter break is after this.

Quartz: Well, you’d better give me seven or eight sentences next Saturday! Stingy scribbler!

Me: All right, all right…